I really should have bought some sunscreen at that first station. I glare hatefully at the low-slanting sun and experience regret for the hundredth time today. I have no doubt I’ve been sunburned, and tonight’s bath is gonna sting. Actually, what are the chances I’ll get to take a bath? Where am I even going to sleep tonight if things go on like this? Don’t tell me my first night in Shikoku is also going to be my first night sleeping rough. Two nights in a row without a shower? We’re walking down a mountain road, and I glance over the guardrail running along its edge to look at the big reservoir below. Worst case scenario, if I don’t get a bath tonight, I should at least rinse myself off with cold water, I think despairingly.
Using social media feeds as our guide, we’ve been getting on and off various trains, hot on the trail of the white kitten, a.k.a. Daijin. But every time we reach the spot where a picture was taken, a new one is posted from somewhere else. This could go on forever. But it’s our only option at this point, and we’re currently headed to the site of a photo from two hours ago. It showed Daijin flirting with the camera in a mandarin orange orchard, with a caption reading “The white kitty is visiting our farm! #withDaijin.” That farm should be at the top of this mountain road. There hasn’t been a convenience store or shop the whole way, meaning I haven’t been able to buy sunscreen.
“…!”
I hear a motor scooter revving behind us.
“Souta!” I shout, running up to where he’s walking a few meters ahead of me and lifting him by the backrest. The bike whizzes past with a hairbreadth to spare.
“…You didn’t see that coming, did you?” I ask.
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” he laughs. But privately, I think he lacks a proper sense of caution. What would I do if he were kidnapped by a weirdo, like the toys in Toy Story? Then I’d have to recapture a chair in addition to finding a cat. On the other hand, carrying around this chair is surprisingly hard on the arms, so when we’re away from people, I’ve been letting him walk on his own a lot.
Suddenly, I hear something drop onto the road, followed by the screech of brakes. I can just barely make out a female voice saying, “Crap!” I look up the hill.
“…Huh?”
Mandarin oranges are flooding down the narrow road. I remember the bike that just passed us had a big box strapped to the rack.
“Aaah!”
The herd of oranges has spread across the whole road and is bearing down on us. As I stand there frozen, Souta jumps out of my arms. I watch in surprise as he goes into the field next to the road and hooks a net onto his leg before returning to my side. It’s the kind of net used to keep animals out of a garden.
“Suzume, hold that end!”
“Okay!”
Souta passes in front of me, pulling the net so that we end up on either side of the road, the net strung between us. At almost the same moment, the oranges roll into the net.
“…This can’t be real!” someone says above my head. I look up. A teenage girl in a helmet is staring down at us in a daze. A bit too late, Souta pretends to be an inanimate object toppled on the ground. He and I succeeded in catching every last mandarin orange in the net.
“Really, truly, thank you! You saved me.”
The girl, who has a short brown bob and is wearing a red school tracksuit, is pumping both my hands energetically. A little bewildered by her enthusiasm, I smile stiffly and say it was nothing.
“You’re like a magician! How in the world did you do that?”
“Um…,” I say, relieved that she seems not to have witnessed the chair moving by itself. “My body just kind of reacted on its own…? I think?”
“Really? That’s totally amazing!”
She seems honestly moved. Her round, made-up eyes are sparkling.
“I’m Chika. Second-year in high school,” she says, pointing to her chest.
“Oh, me too! I’m Suzume.”
“Suzume, that’s a cute name!”
She sure is friendly. Knowing we’re the same age makes me instantly relax, too.
“Hey, Suzume, I don’t recognize your uniform—,” she says. She says my name straight, without an honorific, but it doesn’t feel like she’s being rude. She scans me curiously from head to toe. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Um, no—”
I think I’ll do the same and just call her Chika, I decide, feeling suddenly cheerful. I explain my situation, though I end up leaving out a lot.
“You came all the way from Kyushu…to find a cat?!” she says, obviously surprised, as I show her the picture of the mandarin orange farm on my phone. We’re sitting side by side on a strip of dirt next to the road. I notice the drone of locusts has turned into a chorus of evening cicadas. The surface of the reservoir below the road is fading from bright blue to greenish gray.
“So the cat’s your pet?” Chika asks, handing my phone back.
“Well, not exactly…,” I say, popping a segment of a mandarin orange into my mouth. The orange was a thank-you present from Chika. It’s startlingly sweet. It moistens my dry throat as the sweetness penetrates my tired body. I put about six segments in my mouth at once. They’re a thousand times better than orange juice from the convenience store.
“This is so good I think it might make my sunburn go away!” I say.
Chika smiles happily. “Sorry about earlier. There’s an uneven spot in the road.”
“An uneven spot?”
“Yeah. My tire hit it head-on, and the rubber band on the box came off. It wasn’t that rough yesterday—but anyway, it’s my fault for not securing the box better.”
“That sounds hard… Is it your part time job?”
“No, my parents are in hospitality. These oranges are too old to serve to our guests, so I’m taking them to the processing plant. Eat as many as you like. Get rid of that sunburn for good!”
We laugh together. The sweetness of the fruit and the friendliness of Chika’s voice loosen the tension in my body.
“So you’re on your way to that farm?” she asks.
“Oh, uh, yeah. That’s right!”
Flustered, I pull up the picture on my phone again. This is no good! I’ve gotten distracted by after-school chitchat. Once I’ve examined the picture, I look up to make sure I’m in the right place.
“Chika, I think this photo was taken near—”
I’m about to say here, but instead, a dry gasp escapes my throat.
“…What’s wrong, Suzume?”
I can’t answer. I know she’s peering at me suspiciously, but I can’t peel my eyes off a certain point in the landscape. My eyes are glued to that. Why? Why here? The evening cicadas have gone silent. On the wooded mountainside beyond the reservoir, a flock of crows is circling. Dividing the flock in half is a reddish-black column of smoke rising slowly upward. It seems to be faintly glowing. An enormous worm, visible only to Souta and me.
“Uh, um—”
My voice is shaking. I pick up Souta from his spot at my feet and say to Chika, “Sorry, something came up! Sorry!”
“What? Something came up? Huh?”
I take off running, hugging the chair to my chest. I race down the mountain road toward the worm without even pausing to glance back at Chika.
“Souta, can the worm erupt anywhere?!”
“This land’s Gate must have opened! If I don’t close it fast—”
Another earthquake will happen? I feel a chill rise from the soles of my feet. I run faster, trying to crush the awful feeling underfoot. The long, fat worm is still rising toward the sky.
Souta sounds panicked. “We’ll never get there in time!”
“But—”
“Hey, Suzume!”
Someone is calling my name from behind. I look back. It’s Chika, on her motor scooter. She screeches to a stop in front of me.
“Chika!”
“I don’t know what’s up, but you’re in a hurry, right?” she asks, staring solemnly into my eyes. “Get on!”
Between the trees streaming past us, I glimpse the worm glowing dully with a reddish-copper color. The sun has set without my noticing. I cling to Chika, balanced on the luggage rack of the motor scooter as it speeds down the empty mountain road. Amid the deepening lavender of twilight, the worm is like a sinister red version of the luminescent noctiluca that light up the ocean.
“Are you sure this is the right way?!” Chika shouts over the whir of the engine and whoosh of the wind, without turning her head. “This area up here was buried in a landslide a while back, and no one lives there anymore!”
“It’s an abandoned village?! Then that’s it—take me there!” I shout back before whispering to Souta, “Is there going to be an earthquake?”
“As the worm spreads over the sky, it sucks up energy from the earth and gains weight. When it falls to the ground, it causes an earthquake. If we close the door before the worm falls, we can prevent it. This time we’ll get it right!”
The scooter’s headlight reflects blindingly off a large sign that seems to pop up out of nowhere. Chika slams on the breaks. The sign says in large letters, ROAD CLOSED DUE TO LANDSLIDE, and several colored traffic cones are lined up below it. Rubble and dirt block the road past the sign. It doesn’t look like we can go any farther on the scooter. A festering, sweet smell hangs thick in the air.
“Right here is fine!” I say, hopping off the bike with the chair in my arm and starting to run. “Thank you so much, Chika!”
“Hey, wait! Suzume!” she shouts at my receding back. My heartbeat hurries me on. Far down the blocked road, beyond a pitch-black hamlet, the glowing blackish-red worm looms. The ground is muddy. I kick heavy sludge off my loafers as I run.